Metamorphosis
by butterflies-and-broken-dreams
Summary: Ink, (swirls and patterns, smudges and blurs) stains her hand. Left, she writes with her right (it's funny on the tongue, Louis thinks), her left hand, so much so he can barely see the skin, because her hand is covered with illegible scrawls, words and numbers, some faded, some strong, her hand is covered in ink. Louis Weasley/OC. Themes of depression.
1. Chapter 1

Warnings: language, sexual references, alcohol, sensitive topics (depression)

* * *

Ink, (swirls and patterns, smudges and blurs) stains her hand. Left, she writes with her right (it's funny on the tongue, Louis thinks), her left hand, so much so he can barely see the skin, because her hand is covered with illegible scrawls, words and numbers, some faded, some strong, her hand is covered in ink.

Black, like her hair, like that fringe that hides her face from the rest of the world (he thinks maybe she likes it like that), covers the dark shadows underneath her eyes, those piercing, tired blue eyes that both terrify and entrance him, that make his world come tumbling down. She's different, he can tell, withdrawn to other people and he wants to know why.

History of Magic, sixth year, is when he starts to notice her, after he gets placed behind her in class, because he's never seen her before, despite being perfect, charming Gryffindor Quidditch captain Louis Weasley, who knows anybody and everybody.

He asks Dom about her, who rolls her eyes and asks him why he can't ever fall in love with anybody normal, which confuses Louis, who sits there and stares across the hall at History-of-magic-girl, wondering what makes her so broken, useless to everyone.

(But not to him)

* * *

Depression, Dom tells him, Courtney Lowe found her meds last year. And suddenly, history-of-magic-girl becomes depression-girl, tainted, undesirable, unwanted because of her imperfection. Louis molds himself the way the others do, into someone scared of something they don't understand (because he doesn't, not really)

Friends. He has lots, she has none. Sometimes he thinks it bothers her, occasionally he thinks it doesn't and others he wonders why he's still thinking about depression-girl. She doesn't fit in, not like he does, Louis has always been welcomed, liked by others, she stands out on the edge of the classroom, shying away from all the pretty girls that talk about lipstick and witch weekly and Harry Potter, her only company a book. Different, she's unique, special, maybe in a bad way (the sort of way that could shatter his heart) and that's why he likes her.

He asks her out, and she thinks it's a joke (because all of his mates do), he can tell, by the way her lip curls in disgust and her eyes blink back tears, with the choked out words 'no' to accompany the laughter in the background.

His hand falls limply to the ground and he walks back to the castle.

(He pretends not to care)

* * *

Slughorns Christmas party arrives, which he skips out on (despite Courtney Lowe's constant hints and flirtations), making him about the only popular person not there, to light up a fag in the grounds, sit and watch the sunset, alone, just about his only opportunity.

"I thought you'd be in there." The voice is quiet, soft, unmistakably female. Louis whips around to find those dead eyes staring at him, curiously taking him in.

"I didn't want to go."

"Courtney did." Depression-girl plops herself down beside him on the grass, still watching him with those unblinking blue eyes. "She wouldn't shut up about it, how you were going to take her to the party."

Louis looks at her, a strange expression on his face, one which depression-girl notices.

"I'm fine. I'm not going to freak out and kill you or anything. I only get those feelings when Courtney's around."

Louis laughs, and something flickers on her face, something unreadable, something which a tiny part of him hopes is good.

"Yeah, I hate the Courtney Lowe's of the world too."

Which is true, he hates that sort of female, the ones with the pouty red lipstick and silvery dresses that flutter their eyelashes and expect him to care about it.

"But you're so -" she struggles for the word. "Not me. Perfect. Happy. Popular."

"You've heard of me?"

A blush tinges her snow-white cheeks. "Everyone's heard of Louis Weasley. Everyone likes you."

"Why?"

"Are you kidding? Your mother is a part-Veela. Your father is a Weasley - your uncle is Harry Potter and, from what I've heard, all the girls in Ravenclaw tower think you're pretty hot."

"You think I'm hot?"

"Not what I said Weasley."

(But he sees the ghost of a smile on her pale, pale face.)

* * *

The next day she is gone and she doesn't return.

Suicide. It's a whisper around the school, that depression-girl committed suicide, that's why she hasn't been at school for weeks, because she killed herself to escape from the cage of reality, the one that ensnares Louis when he hears the news.

"I saw it coming." He's making his way through the corridor when he hears this, and his fists clench into tiny white knuckles at the sound of the voice, the hushed tone he so easily recognises.

"She was so depressed all of the time, and Courtney found the meds, you could've seen it was about to happen."

"Shut the fuck up." Louis hisses, as he turns to face his sister, who blanches at the sight of his face.

"Louis!" Dom calls out and she runs after him, but it's too late.

Depression-girl is dead - rid of that life she could have lived, the husband she could have married, the children she could have had.

Shesgoneshesgoneshesgoneshesgone. Louis traces it over and over on the smooth sturdy wood of his bed frame, not believing it to be true. She's gone and he barely knew her.

(And then she comes back from the dead.)

* * *

Depression-girl arrives back at Hogwarts, squeaky clean, hand scrubbed free of ink, hair in a ponytail that displays all of her face (paler than usual, Louis thinks), and very, very uncaring of the rumours that are flying around about her, the whispers in the corridor, the ones that don't even bother keeping their voices down.

"What happened?"

He slides her the note during History of Magic, the note that she ignores, throwing back to him, which he catches (in impressive keeper-style), frowning slightly at her blank face. Depression-girl morphs into suicide-girl, even more numb, empty than she used to be.

(Maybe, just maybe, he wants to fix what's broken)

* * *

They're sitting in a circle, the group of them, him and his mates, passing round the firewhisky and the cigarettes.

"Who would you rather do?" one of them asks. "Courtney Lowe or Dom Weasley?"

Louis snorts out some of the firewhisky he's drinking and gives a throaty laugh. "Dude, that's my sister."

"Yeah well, it's clear to see who got the looks in the family, eh?"

"She's pretty fit mate." another adds, and the rest murmur in agreement.

"Courtney Lowe is too." someone pipes up.

"She's also bloody annoying." Louis counters and everyone laughs and toasts to that.

"Professor Greengrass or..." the boy to Louis' right thinks for a minute before deciding, "Suicide-girl?"

Bile rises in his throat and suddenly, Louis doesn't like this game anymore.

(because she makes it all real).

* * *

She's slipping away again, Louis thinks. Detaching herself from the rest of the world, tearing herself apart, and he doesn't even know her name but he wants to help this insecure, lost girl in his history-of-magic class and he has no idea why. Well, he's not stupid, he's been having dreams for a while now, dreams about her, when he wakes up her name is upon his lips, he knows, knows that he might -

(When he thinks of her, his stomach clenches)

But he can't do that, become an outcast with her, for her, he can't abandon his hopes and dreams just to repair something, someone shattered, only to get his heart broken when she does something reckless and stupid, all for a girl who won't even look him in the eye, a woman whose name eludes him, as does everything about her, her family, her blood status, pets, even her goddamn favourite colour.

Black. His mind absent-mindedly replies, "it's black." And he remembers the chipped nail-polish she wears, that he faintly recognises as the shade of 'devil's advocate' (Dom went through a goth phase in second year) and the black scarf she wraps around her when she goes to a Quidditch match (only the Ravenclaw ones, he thinks distantly, and she sits away from everyone else). Her favourite colour is black.

This is why he can't think about her anymore.

(So he forgets)

* * *

Louis Weasley begins to settle down, focus on the grades that have been slipping since the start of sixth year, become that flawless boy he used to be, make sure Gryffindor wins every Quidditch match that January, pick up the pieces and put them back together (it's easier, he muses, to do it for his own life, than somebody else's).

Gradually, he changes into what he hates, becomes carbon-copies of his friends, only interested in women and Quidditch. He begins to let the girls ogle his abs (accompanied by a smirk now, rather than a scowl), starts to take notice, flirt back, snog a few in empty classrooms, joins the Courtney Lowe's of the universe.

Who happens to ask him out to Hogsmeade for Valentines day, which she's done since third year when he joined the Quidditch team.

(Except this time he says yes)

Dom once told him to never date a Ravenclaw - in her words; "date a goddamn Hufflepuff instead, just, for fucks sake, don't date the Claws."

Clearly he should have listened because he's on a date with one right now, while wishing it was another (but he prefers not to think about that.)

And Courtney is in the middle of batting her eyelids (gods sake it makes her look like an idiot) and asking him if his meal is alright, which it isn't because all of the glittery shit that's falling from the ceiling (where his eyes seem to be directed most of the time) of Madam Puddifoot's (who he cannot believe is still alive) café.

Looking around, he and Courtney are the only couple still making awkward conversation and not snogging, (which he prays to almighty merlin he won't have to do), so he pays the bill and gets the hell out of there, reluctantly tugging Courtney's hand as he goes, off to Honeydukes.

He only drops her hand when he sees the familiar flash of black hair in the street.

(because he realises, he's not perfect, so why the fuck is he trying to be?)

* * *

Dark, it's midnight, so why are there footsteps coming from the astronomy tower? Unless it's another prefect on patrol, which Louis doubts (since when does Courtney Lowe care about her prefect job?), it's got to be someone out after curfew - which is his responsibitlity to stop (even though he's fucking tired and he just wants to sink into bed), so he heads up the staircase (each step is like a marathon), until he reaches the top of the tower, where he is greeted by those desolate eyes he knows all too well. His own drop to her hands, and squinting a little, he realises that she's holding a bottle of half-empty firewhisky, only visible by the light of the stars.

Wordlessly, he goes over to suicide-girl, picks up the firewhisky, takes it to the large window and throws it out, out into the sea.

"It won't help." He tells her, still facing the window, looking over to the bottle which is gently bobbing up and down in the tide.

Louis turns back towards suicide-girl, whose lip is trembling slightly and crouches down beside her.

"You're too good for that stuff."

Near, he's near enough to her that he could tilt his head slightly, lean towards her and -

Suddenly, she's pulling him in for a hug, entwining her body with his, so tightly he can smell her, she has that old book smell, the scent of the library (which he knows he'll be returning too) and it's a comforting scent, even when the tears start to fall from those previously-expressionless eyes, into his robes, soaking them as her head nestles into his chest and she sobs for a good half-hour before descending into silence (the everything-will-be-alright kind.)

After that, his robes always smell of her.

(Like the amortentia in potions the very next day)

* * *

He's in a small muggle café over the summer, just trying to escape from the craziness that is the Weasley family, particularly his twin sister whose best friend has suddenly become Courtney Lowe (who has a tendency to peek through the door when he's changing)

"Louis?" The waitress peers down at him tentatively. And his lazy eye catches a strand of that jet-black hair and he sits up a little straighter, running his hand through his own as he looks at Suicide-Girl (except she's not that anymore, not to him at least) bemusedly.

"Hi." he breathes and dear merlin he must sound like an over-excited ten year old, but she doesn't seem to care - but then, that's the way she normally positions herself.

"What are you doing here?"

Her tone is more bittersweet than sharp and he finds himself flinching slightly, even though she doesn't mean to be rude.

"Courtney Lowe decided to stay over for the summer. I had to get out of that hellhole and fast."

Her face remains expressionless but Louis sees something flicker in her eyes, giving him the courage to carry on.

"You work for this place then?"

Some distinct murmur falls from her lips and he finds himself straining to hear her.

"What?"

"My sister owns the place."

"I wants to meet her."

"I'm not done working until four."

"Where is she?"

"Through the back room."

"Okay." He stands up and throws her that dazzling smile. "I'll have a hot chocolate with extra marshmallows and cream please," he says before pushing open the double doors (reading staff-only) to be greeted by a sitting-room, pleasantly different from the café and it's kitchen.

"Hello."

Suicide girl's sister is completely different to what he expected, someone prim, proper with several years age difference. This girl is completely abnormal, weird even.

One of the first things he notes is that she is heavily pregnant (even though she's no more than twenty-one at least), and then his gaze drifts up to her ketchup red frizzy hair and nose piercing. She raises an eyebrow, then offers a hand for him to shake.

"I'm Cassie. And you?"

"Louis. I'm a ... friend of your sister."

"You're the first person Alice has brought home."

Suicide-girl makes another change, this time into Alice, an actual, proper human-being with thoughts and feeling and emotions. This time around, suicide-girl, no - Alice, feels like reality, like they're not strangers anymore.

Noiselessness settles between them until Louis, staring at her round belly, offers her his congratulations.

"Thanks. I think you're the only other person supporting this baby."

"What about the father?" he asks awkwardly.

"Long gone." Cassie waves her hand dismissively. "So, you and my sister. How did you meet?"

"History of Magic together."

"I'm glad she has a friend. I hate seeing her so unhappy all of the time."

"Me too."

Cassie shoots him a funny look before carrying on; "Some days it's like she's actually happy and others she just holes up in her room and listens to sad wizarding music or scrawls in that black notebook of hers. Every time I think I'm making progress she just relapses."

"What about the medication?"

"It doesn't work. I think it's because she doesn't like taking it."

Just after she says this, Alice enters the room, blowing gently on a frothy mess of chocolate before passing it over to Louis who takes a delicate sip before sitting down on the sofa.

"Good?" Alice asks, slipping over to the seat next to him. "I see you've met Cassie."

"Yeah." Louis offers, trying not to stare at her waitress uniform (which Cassie so clearly picked out).

"He's interesting enough." Cassie adds, still eying him wearily.

"I'd better be going back. Lu coming in today?" The question throws Cassie off guard.

"Hmmm? Oh, yes."

As Alice exits through the door, Cassie turns upon Louis.

"You like her." she accuses.

"We're friends, yeah, so of course I do."

"No smart-arse, I mean you like her."

"We're friends." Louis reiterates, growing frustrated. "And barely that."

"What d'you mean barely that? I see the way you look at her."

"How?"

"Like she's the greatest thing you've ever seen."

"I feel uncomfortable with this conversation."

"Listen up Louis." Cassie growls. "I like you and all, and I think you care about my sister but you hurt Alice, I hurt you."

"I'm not going - "

Cassie runs a hand through her hair. "She's fragile. Just, just - promise me you won't break her."

"I would never do anything to hurt your sister."

(because he loves her)

* * *

They spend time together that summer, normal, awkward teenage not-quite dates, where he tries to get her to smile and she rebuffs his advances (though, he notices, with a little more hesitation each time). He even manages a laugh once, when he tells the story about Uncle Fred and the Blue Whale, and he looks at her and it takes all the self-restraint in the world not to kiss her on those rosy pink lips.

He never tells his parents where he's going, and he certainly doesn't tell Dominique, who spends all her time with Courtney, ogling the latest Quidditch players and painting their nails girly colours. Victoire suspects, he can tell, but she, being his favourite sister, has the sense not to bring it up.

The Hogwarts letter comes, and he gets Head Boy (just like expected of him), along with some Hufflepuff as Head Girl and it's all just perfect and isn't everybody so fucking proud of him for being little golden-boy Weasley who never did a thing wrong.

"You're using me." Alice deduces one day. "As an act of rebellion. Little Louis Weasley doesn't like flawless-ness anymore so he decided to turn to the most imperfect thing he could find. Me."

Louis stands there and gapes for about a minute. "I'm not - "

"Yes," she says, in that voice that could move him to tears, tentatively covering his hand with her own tiny one. "You are. And it's okay. It's not the worst thing anybody could do to someone."

"You," Louis shakes his head in disbelief, "are the most brilliant person I've ever met."

Alice stares at him, a sad smile on her face. "I'm really not."

"Of course you are. Why else would I hang out with you?"

(because he cares)

* * *

They step off the train together, hands so dangerously close they could be entwined, back into Hogwarts, like a jolt to the system, with only a sideways glance from him into those wonderfully tragic eyes of hers.

People notice, of course, their newfound friendship, how could it not spread around, with girls like Courtney Lowe in existance? It's a welcome thought, Louis realises one day, the fact that he simply doesn't care anymore. Maybe he never did.

Slowly, he starts to slip away from his friends, spend more time with Alice, never being called out on it until one particularly awful day when he forgets Quidditch practise.

"When did you start hanging out with freaks, Louis?" It's Felix, normally the quietest of his friends, who speaks it first, sneers it, a look of loathing directed towards Alice, who cowers behind Louis.

"When did you start being a bastard Felix?" It's harsh, he knows, but he can't help protecting Alice, whose hand he grips mindlessly as he stares Felix down, an unruly look in his eyes.

"She your girlfriend now Louis?"

He fights a blush and snarls back, "Better than shagging Lowe in my free time."

"That bint is just a bit on the side."

And Louis doesn't know why he does it, because she's Courtney Lowe, and he's detested her since first year, but he pulls out his wand and hexes Felix.

"It's a wonder you get any girls with an attitude like that." Louis growls, stalking off, a protective arm thrown around Alice as he goes.

(bastards)

* * *

"Sorry." A whisper, hours after the incident with Felix, the first word she's spoken to him since then. Startled, Louis looks up from his transfiguration homework.

"What for?"

"The argument with your friends. It's my fault."

"No it's not."

"Yes, Louis, it is." her voice is tiny as she speaks, not quite meeting him in the eye.

He tilts her chin up slowly with his hand. "Listen. You're not to blame for any of this. The only thing you did wrong was being so spectacularly wonderful I couldn't keep myself away from you. Capiche?"

Alice nods slowly, brushing a tear from her cheek.

"What happened the week you weren't at Hogwarts?" he asks suddenly, then he realises how incredibly tactless he's being and clamps a hand over his mouth. "I'm sorry."

"No." she says, and her voice is bigger, braver, bolder. "I need to talk about it."

"Okay." he murmurs, taking her hand in his. "Talk."

"I...hadn't taken my medication in a while." she confesses, glancing downwards at their hands. "And it wasn't even that I had that bad a day - I just - " her voice breaks and he squeezes her hand. "I felt like I didn't belong. There, at home, anywhere. I know it was impulsive and stupid but I figured that life wouldn't get better. Ever. Some of the worst moments of my life - dad leaving, mum's death wouldn't stop replaying in my head until I just wanted to...scream."

"What did you do?" Louis whispers, eyes not leaving her face, grip on her hand becoming ever tighter.

"Drowning," her voice goes up an octave. "I always found some serenity about water - stillness, beauty. For once in my life I felt - felt, calm, as though I had made the right choice. And then..." she trembles slightly, "I did it. I woke up hours later in a muggle institution. I think...knowing that I survived, I was relieved - you know, how they say you regret it as soon as you jump?"

"Alice." Louis breathes. "Alice - promise me you'll never do it again." his thumb traces circles round her hand.

"Who would care if I died?" she chokes, tears spilling onto her cheeks.

"I would care." Louis tells, her, wrapping his arms around her waist. "I would care so much it hurt."

(he really would)

* * *

"Alice!" he calls after her, pushing through all the people bustling to their next class. "Alice!"

It doesn't take him long to catch up to her, after all she's barely running, just blindly stumbling her way through the corridors, searching for an empty classroom.

"Alice." Louis says, dropping to the floor where she sits, turned away from him. "Alice talk to me. Tell me what's wrong."

She turns around and faces him, an empty look in her eyes, which he ignores and carries on.

"Fine, if you're not going to talk, then I guess we'll have to communicate through love-hearts."

Alice raises one eyebrow and he grins at her.

"Muggle sweets. Aunt Hermione's parents gave them to me."

He rips open the packet, shaking out the tiny colourful confectionary, picking them up and inspecting each one of them carefully.

"Here we go." Louis tosses the yellow one reading 'be happy' at her, still smiling. Something in her jaw twitches and she throws him a sweet back.

"Dream on." he reads and, shaking his head, passes her 'cheeky girl', which she pops into her mouth, a hint of a smile on her face.

"There."

It's a risky move he knows, giving her that sweet, because he's kept it inside of him for so, so long and this could all come crumbling down for him. She reads the words and looks up at him quizzically, something else, something unreadable within her eyes.

He gives her 'be mine.'

Louis waits with bated breath for her answer, heart stopping a couple of times, as she muses over the selection, stopping on the last one and daintily removing it from the floor. His eyes close briefly, and he holds out his hand, waiting until she places it in the centre of his palm.

He opens them again, unfurls his palm and stares at the purple sweet on his hand, squinting to make out the words placed in an arc around the heart.

What he reads makes his mouth dry and his brain cease rational thinking, makes a few seconds feel like forever:

('I surrender')

* * *

I don't own:

Harry Potter


	2. Chapter 2

A/N: Basically the first chapter from Alice' perspective.

Warnings: depression, suicide, dark themes.

* * *

Alice is different.

And, goddammit, she _knows_ it.

Being constantly reminded of it every single fucking _day_ tends to do that to a person.

Depression-girl, they call her, because of when Courtney found the anti-depressants (the ones she never _wanted_ to take) last year and it's them (her class-mates, her supposed 'friends') that make her hate the world even more.

So caught up in their silly little lives, too worried about '_who's hotter, Louis Weasley, or Felix Bachman_?' (Louis, she decides one night, definitely, definitely Louis) to wonder if other people actually have bigger problems than '_is he into me_?'

Because normal is the watchword and anything that strays outside of it is unnatural, blemished, flawed - none more so than she.

Sometimes she thinks if she died, nobody would care. It's a topic she wonders about a lot, actually, about death - hers, her mother's, other peoples.

It's a tragic thing to admit, but she has the note planned out.

For when she plucks up the guts to actually _do it_.

They talk of courage - and how she is a coward, but it takes all the strength in the world just to get out of bed every day, face them, face the cruel, bitter world that she lives in.

(and she really fucking hates it)

* * *

There's a boy.

There always is, isn't there? Even for the worst of the bunch - like her.

But he would never be interested. As say all the girls of Hogwarts, when they taunt her, pull her apart - "you're so fucking ugly." and "you're too fucking _broken_."

Maybe without the swear words.

In her mind, everything has swear words.

No, nobody would ever like her, when there are smarter, safer options out there, flawless girls like Courtney Lowe and Dominique Weasley (except she really hopes he doesn't have a thing with _her_ - considering it's his sister) who aren't falling apart by the second, who a aren't so hopelessly _lonely_ it hurts.

Nothing goes wrong for them.

They are perfect and Alice is so far from it that it's almost hilarious.

(in a tragically dark way)

* * *

"You need to be more confident."

"Smile more often."

Says the people who tell her that she is unwanted, that she will always be unloved, that they hate the fucking ground she walks on, because she is a _freak_.

So she gives them that smile, gives them that shit-eating grin and the middle finger to go along with it.

Because how-fucking-_dare_-they think that they know what she's going through? _They've_ never been the outsider looking in, _they've_ never been told that they're not good enough for anything, that _they_ should just go kill themselves because nobody wants them anyway.

"You're so quiet."

Well, maybe that's because when she tries to speak they tell her to shut the fuck and that they don't care what she thinks, that her opinions are worth nothing.

(just like _her_)

* * *

She catches _him_ staring one day.

Pretends not to notice, because it _can't_ be because he _likes_ her or anything, (that would be pretty impossible) it's just because he's heard the rumour and he thinks she's a big fat weirdo, like an animal in a cage, worth goggling at - '_roll up, roll up, come and see the girl whose own brain chemicals failed her_.'

He sits behind her in History of Magic. It feels kind of weird, that she knows that, that she's remembered that, but hey, she'll just add it to her very long list of faults, right?

Sometimes, she fakes turning around to look at the clock, just to catch a glimpse of his face.

Of that shaggy blonde hair that kind-of makes her smile.

(only a little though)

* * *

It's a little game, they like to play, 'let's ask out depression-girl.'

It's because nobody would ever actually _want_ to and that's what makes it so fucking-_funny_, you see, the sheer surreality of it.

Yes, _let's_ go up to her, and act as though we would _ever_ want to fuck someone with so _many_ issues.

_Let's_ call her 'sexy' and make her feel uncomfortable in her own skin, purely because she has a disorder that affects us in no way whatsoever.

She threw a glass at one of them, once - because she just couldn't take it any more, all the constant teasing, harassment. Cut his face up pretty badly, nearly got suspended (one of the few times her _condition_ came in handy).

It scared them - a lot and maybe that made them think of her worse, but at least all the sexual comments stopped.

(until now)

* * *

Her heart drops, because dear God, not _him_ - the one boy she actually had a little faith in, the one she believed had a little humanity, not _Louis_.

But it is.

Which makes it just about ten times more humiliating - because this is the only time she'll ever get to hear those words - 'will you go out with me?' as a sick, cruel joke that has all of his friends in fucking _stitches_.

Guess that's what Alice gets for having hopes and expectations.

Life always, always, _always_ lets you down.

(and it makes her want to _throw up_)

* * *

Alice doesn't know why she did it.

Talked to him. Let out her emotions. For fuck's sake, _joked_ with him. She practically told him he was hot.

Oh _god_.

She sort-of told him he was hot.

He's probably laughing over it now, she thinks miserably - wondering why that stupid _monstrosity_ would ever believe that _they_ could get together.

(and the thought pushes her over the brink)

* * *

It's drowning.

She's always known it would be - there's something strangely peaceful about the stillness of water, calm, undisturbed.

How she wants to be.

It's an odd place to do it in - the Prefect's bathroom, considering that Alice has never actually _been_ a prefect, but they probably won't be wondering about that, when she's gone.

If they wonder at all.

(except it doesn't work)

* * *

The sanitarium (_asylum_, she corrects mentally) is small, well-preserved and, according to her sister, one of the best in the country.

For once, the people surrounding Alice are even more fucked-up than her and she's not _entirely_ sure if that's a comfort or not.

It's white, bland and boring, the safest combination anyone could think of, which is why Alice _hates_ it. She's treated like a baby, like she needs someone to watch her every move, just to check if she's going to try and stab herself with a pencil or something.

Which, for the record, she isn't.

It's like a cage, trapping her from the outside world and she's torn - because she absolutely _loathes_ the hospital, but then again, she's not sure if she wants to go back - not to them.

(but maybe to _him_)

* * *

They've changed it now. Her nickname. It's not depression-girl, it's suicide-girl (because somehow, apparently, they found out). Shows just how ignorant, how sadistic all her classmates are - how they can make a joke of her, especially after _that_.

Oh, because she's a right little attention seeker now, isn't she? It _can't_ have been a desperate cry for help, it must have been a pathetic plea for the spotlight, because that's what the rest of them are all obsessed with.

"_If you meant it, why didn't you do it right_?"

Alice goddamn wishes that she _had_.

She gets called into McGonagall's office, to discuss her 'home life,' her 'studies' and 'friends.'

To all of which, she replies "It's fine," because her Professor wouldn't _care_. She'd listen with a supposedly sympathetic ear, then call in a psychiatrist to examine her.

Everyone else already thinks she's nuts. What good would one more person do? The medications don't work and it's not as fucking simple as 'don't worry, be happy' yes, even _after_ the millionth time of hearing it.

Louis slips her a note in History of Magic - '_what happened_?'

Alice scrunches it up and throws it straight back to him.

Whatever. It's not like he _cares_.

(probably just wants something to gossip about)

* * *

Drunk.

She got drunk and cried in his arms.

God, why is she so _stupid_?

He's to going to _hate_ her now, for wasting his entire night. Think that Alice likes him or something (okay, well, maybe she does) and run off and giggle about it with all his mates.

Louis Weasley will never, ever, _ever_ be hers. He'll end up with someone like Courntey Lowe, someone glamorous, sophisticated (if one could call her that), so uncomplicated it'll make everybody smile and squee at just how adorable a couple they are.

No, she just _knows_ that if _they_ went out, there would be constant whispers. How she's not good enough for him. How he's so _fit_ and she's so goddamn _ugly_ it makes people want to break something.

He's nice, really, really, really _nice_ (nicer than any Hufflepuff she's met) but if she asked him out (which she would ever do) he would _obviously_ reject her - because Alice is the opposite.

A bitch. An out-of-control, dangerous, off-the rails psycho bitch who will end up in the gutter somewhere ten years from now, just _floating_, where she'll remain because nobody will ever bother to fish out the body.

While he'll get married (and have perfect, normal children) and become an all-star Quidditch player, or Minister for Magic, or anything as prestigious.

(no, she _definitely_ isn't going to get that happy ending)

* * *

He just won't leave her alone, will he?

Louis Weasley - completely out of the blue - showed up at her café (well, when she says her, it's actually _Cassie's) _and demanding to meet her sister (who, in fairness, is a far more interesting person than she will ever be).

God, why is she fucking _blushing_ right now?

He's seen her room - all the posters of the men with the dark hair and lip-piercings, (he said one gave him nightmares) he's taken her down to the pier and bought her ice cream (mint chocolate chip) and fish and chips - Alice never told him she's only likes it for the chip part - and it's almost like...dating.

Except without the sex.

Or the kissing - though, goddammit, she thinks he's been about to a few times, until she's turned her head away, because she _can't_ do that to him.

Alice is like a house made of glass - a single stone and she could shatter into a billion pieces.

Louis doesn't deserve that.

Louis deserves nothing less than perfect - and she's nothing more than the opposite.

(One day, she's going to crumple and she really, really, _really_ doesn't want him to care)

* * *

They sit in silence on the train, her head lain against his chest, (it's probably the most intimate they've ever been and that...kind of scares her) ear pressed so that she can hear the da-dum, da-dum, da-dum of his heart, her hair strewn all over the place - bit he doesn't seem to mind.

He never does.

Alice casts a casual glance up towards his face, which is smiling (almost beaming, actually) down at her, like...well, she can't describe it.

It's weird - because, when she's with Louis, she doesn't feel it as much. The constant weight balanced against her, suffocating her insides. It's...lighter. Still there, still ever-lingering, like a lion waiting to pounce...but not as strong, as say, when she's alone at night.

For the first time in what feels like forever, Alice sleeps.

(in his arms, but still)

* * *

They're out.

Not as a couple, obviously - just as _friends_. It's starting to happen. What she knew would. The whispers. The judging stares.

Someone asks him, once, why they're mates. Him and..._that_. Alice has to catch Louis' fist before it flies, before it punches.

She's learnt to take it without a fuss.

It's kind of sad, actually, how he's abandoned all of them (the flawless ones) for her. Alice never wanted that to happen.

(but she can't help feeling kind of smug that it did)

* * *

Alice told him.

About..._it_.

Why not? She can trust him, right? By now, she's realised that. How he's not quite-out-to get her. How he's not her enemy...but someone she can rely on. Possibly even -

No. She'll let fate take it's course.

Louis makes her better on the inside - he tells her she's beautiful, she's wonderful and after a lifetime of 'bitch' 'whore' and 'slut,' it's a pretty refreshing change.

And those eyes...damn, she could get _used_ to them.

He's not going to make her better - she realises that now, nor is he going to crush her hopes and dreams in a second, or be her white knight in shining armour. He's Louis and that's pretty goddamn special.

But according to him - being Alice is cool too.

(maybe...just maybe, she'll get that fairytale ending)

* * *

He leans ever closer, until their noses are practically brushing (and she's never done this before - ) the excitement and the nervous-ness and the why-did-he-pick-me building up in her stomach until -

His mouth captures hers and it dawns on her.

They are Louis and Alice and they are...

_Amazing_.

* * *

I don't own Harry Potter

A/N: I hope you enjoyed...please review!


End file.
